


Late Night Race

by DawnisaNerd



Category: Crash Bandicoot (Video Games), Crash Team Racing (Video Games), Crash Team Racing: Nitro Fueled (Video Games)
Genre: Drinking & Talking, Late Night Conversations, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22285858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnisaNerd/pseuds/DawnisaNerd
Summary: Komodo Joe heads to a bar for a late night drink. There, he meets his rival Pinstripe Potoroo, who is exhausted from work and already drinking. The two have share a conversation about what they've been doing and why they both stopped kart-racing.
Relationships: Komodo Joe/Pinstripe Potoroo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Late Night Race

**Author's Note:**

> Ok if no one's gonna write fanfic of these two, then I will *cracks knuckles*  
Also this is the perfect excuse for me to accept why they haven't gotten any new skins lately. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy this drabble!

It was late at night and Joe really wanted a drink. He knew Moe wouldn’t drink any alcoholic drink that wasn’t sweet, so he went to the local bar by himself. Not feeling energetic, he slowly opened the door and looked around inside for the nearest counter. Even though it was late, the perfect time for people to stop by in a bar, the place was nearly empty. Joe walked aimlessly eyeing the dark blue concrete walls filled with a few pictures of people looking like they were having a good time. Seems like no one is in that mood tonight. He found a tall stool and sat on its red cushion, waiting for a bartender. He wasn’t planning to stay very long, so he wanted just one simple drink. Any drinks that had wumpa in it weren’t his favorite, due to the sweetness, but he liked drinking them nonetheless. 

Joe was disappointed when the bartender who approached him was just one of Cortex’s lame lab assistants. Perhaps Brio was still busy in his lab tonight. Joe held a finger up and said, “One wumpa sangria pleassssse.” The bartender nodded and walked away. Joe sighed as he tilted his head onto his left hand. This might take a while, but he got nothing on his mind anyways.  
As he waited, he heard someone place their shot glass onto the counter and sigh. Joe turned around to see none other than his rival Pinstripe Potoroo. He must have finished his drink. Pinstripe wasn’t wearing his usual business suit jacket and was only in his neon green business shirt. His black tie was loose and his slick hair looked a bit sloppy while his ears flopped down. He seemed to be just as tired as Joe was. The lizard continued to stare at him. It had been a while since he had last saw his rival. What was he doing here? 

“Pinssssstripe?” he muttered quietly. But Pinstripe must have heard him because he turned around with a surprised look, which immediately turned into a scowl. “Urgh, what do ya want?” 

“Nothing!” Joe quickly turned away. “I jussssst…didn’t sssssee you there.”

“Eh, me neither.” Pinstripe’s voice sounded dreary. The two mutants sat there in silence. They haven’t seen each other in a month, so it was awkward to see each other again. Joe had been busy exploring the caves of Wumpa Islands to see if there were any new gems for him and Moe to sell. Sadly, all they found were a few quartzes, which were ultimately useless. He couldn’t help but wonder what Pinstripe had been doing this whole time. 

“So how’ave youse been?” 

Joe turned around when he heard his rival’s question. But he felt the need to answer anyway. “Fine, I sssssuppossssse. You?”

“Cramped with work. Just takin’ a break out here.” 

“You mussssst be busssssy with your casssssino.” 

“Yeah, but it’s bettah than racin’.” Pinstripe grabbed a bottle that was right next to him and refilled his shot glass. Joe couldn’t tell what he was drinking and how many shots he had drunk, but he didn’t want to know. 

“I thought you were ssssstill in the competition, Mr.Ssssspeed Champion.” 

“Hey, I’m ovah dat title, ok? I quit since da last Grand Prix.” 

Joe was confused. He hadn’t raced in the monthly Grand Prixes in so long. He expected Pinstripe to stay since he claimed himself to be the “speed champion”. He never thought this rival would actually quit. “You did?” 

“Yeah, it got old real quick,” Pinstripe gave out a sigh and took a sip of his drink. “After Kong joined da races I realized dere was nothin’ rewardin’ left for me. Da Pitstop Crew won’t even offah me any new deals! I couldn’t leave dat Neon Circus cause da Muscle didn’t want me to, but once it was ovah I hit da road.” 

“Hmm, I sssssee…” As Joe made that remark, the bartender came back with a glass of wumpa sangria. Joe took a moment to look at the bright red liquid with a few slices of wumpa fruit in it. This was definitely too sweet for his taste, but perhaps he could recommend it to Moe the next time he came here. He slipped his tongue to taste the liquid; yep, it was sweet alright but he could still taste the bitter aftermath. His long tail curled from the taste. 

“How come youse left? The last time ya raced was durin’ da Spooky Grand Prix.” Joe stopped licking when he heard another question. Pinstripe really wanted to converse with him. Then again, neither one of them were in the mood to go at each other’s throats so this was an appropriate way to interact. 

“Well, Moe told me he really enjoyed racccccing with me but he wanted to ssssspend more time with me like we usssssed to. I didn’t want to leave him again, so I decccccided to quit racccccing. We’ve done a lot more treasure hunting ever sssssince.” 

“Huh, dat’s pretty nice of youse.” Pinstripe never complimented Joe before. All he ever gave him were meaningless insults. But Joe quickly shrugged it off to get a complaint off of his chest. 

“And besssssides, we haven’t gotten any new deals from that Pitstop Crew either. It’sssss clear that they’re biasssssed for cccccertain racersssss.” 

“Aw man, I know right?!” Pinstripe stood up raising his voice and making Joe flinch. “Dis really sucks! I’m tryin’ to take care of ma casino and everybody out dere is havin’ a good time. Do dey think I don’t notice when dey race on Hot Air Skyway?! It’s like dey want me to feel bad for missin’ out!” 

“Hey, at leassssst you’re not that little robot, whatever hisssss name isssss. I hear he getsssss nothing for each Grand Prix. Plusssss he’sssss been cleaning up the podiumssssss after every cup raccccce.” 

“Damn really? Sucks to be him.” Pinstripe slowly sat down and sipped on his drink to calm himself. But he was still making eye contact with Joe. For a while, racing during the Grand Prixes had took a toll on the lizard. Of course, he knew about both the Circus Grand Prix and the Winter Grand Prix, along with all the new tracks, karts, decals, and racers. He should have had fun, but he hated being sidelined from all the new stuff. He also didn’t want to embarrass his brother for crying his eyes out on every loss. It was better for him to leave. He figured Pinstripe must have had it worse. 

“You should be glad you quit,” Joe sighed in between licks, “I’m not sssssaying that becaussssse I want you to give up, but you dessssserve to do sssssomething that truly satisfiesssss you.” 

“Hmph, dat’s rich comin’ from youse.” 

“Do you think I haven’t felt that? Treasure hunting’sssss much more exhilarating than racccccesssss. I’d rather do that than lossssse every raccccce and have that ssssstupid Punta laugh at me for it.” 

“Urgh! Fuck dat penguin!” 

Joe flinched again at the sudden slam on the counter. If there was anything he liked about Pinstripe, it was his mutual hatred towards Penta Penguin. That pesky liar always got away with everything. 

“Let me guesssss, he’sssss been rubbing it in your faccccce too?” 

“Oh ya know he has, dat little demon.” Pinstripe snarled, showing off a fist. “I’d give anyding to roast dat bird alive so he won’t evah race again!” 

Joe laughed at the threat, “I’ve been thinking the sssssame thing.” 

“Oh…” His rival’s eyes widened as he lowered his hand. He stared at Joe for a few seconds and went back to finishing his drink. Joe figured he should do the same. He barely drank most of his sangria and he still didn’t like the sweet taste, but he had to finish it somehow. Another silence filled the room as the two mutants drank. Who knows how much time has passed, but for some reason, Joe wanted to stay a little longer. 

“Say…” Pinstripe spoke up again. “How about we have a private match togetha near my casino? You an’ me, one on one.” 

“What?” Joe’s eyes widened at the offer. He hadn’t raced in so long but he’d rather do it against one person than seven. Pinstripe smiled at him and said, “Yeah, ya heard me. What do ya say?”

Joe was a little speechless but it wasn’t because of Pinstripe’s offer to race. It was because of his smile. It wasn’t that usual greasy smirk that he wanted to punch off of his face, but a surprisingly gentle and patient smile. He had never seen that kind of smile before, let alone from Pinstripe. Joe took a moment to think, but he already knew his answer. “I think I’d like that.”

Pinstripe chuckled softly. It seemed like he really wanted to race as well. Then his ears perked up as if he had another idea. “Oh, and if youse win, youse can bring Moe if ya want to!” 

“Really?” Now this caught his interest. “In that cassssse, we are going to crush you into break dussssst.” Joe’s lips curled into a smirk. Now he just made the competition a lot easier for him. Pinstripe did the same as his tired eyes slowly turned more determined. “Yeah, ya wish. Remembah who da real mastah of Hot Air Skyway is.” 

Joe loved hearing that retort. He didn’t want to go back in the Grand Prix races any time soon, but he was glad to have another chance to race against his one and only rival. Perhaps this kind of race was for the better for both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Few, I didn't think I'd write fanfic again but here we are! I hope it's alright. If you want me to write more fanfics in the future, please let me know!


End file.
